


thrilled by the still of your hand

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Invisibility, M/M, Magic Fingers, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Somnophilia, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Harry lives alone, but one night as he's watching TV he's visited by some sort of spirit. It doesn't leave.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 170
Collections: Anonymous, Anonymous Unicorns





	thrilled by the still of your hand

Harry was beginning to think he should make an appointment with a ghost whisperer. Were those real? Either way, he needed someone to help him excise the demon that was haunting him.

It took him awhile to realize what was happening. At first it was the little things. Things around his apartment weren’t where he left them, he heard weird noises, and his front door would open and close on it’s own. If he lived in an old house, sure, but he lived in a fairly modern apartment complex with an interior front door.

He also just had this vague feeling that someone was watching him.

That was when the dreams started. Wet dreams. He was almost thirty years old, he hadn’t had wet dreams in forever, but sure enough there were days he would wake up covered in his own come.

He didn’t hate that he was starting each day more relaxed and refreshed, but it seemed odd that over and over again he had absolutely no memory of it.

A week after it started happening more regularly, the touching started.

It was a Saturday evening and he was relaxing at home watching Netflix, beginning to drift off as his eyelids drooped, when all of a sudden there was a pressure on his shoulders. Like someone was massaging him. He jumped, startled, suddenly _very_ awake but the pressure remained steady, keeping him in place.

Uneasy, Harry remained in his seat, but the tension laced through his back and he held his breath in anticipation of being violently murdered.

Instead of murdering him, the hands continued to soothe him. They rubbed his back steadily until he relaxed a little bit more. Frantically, Harry checked the reflection in the window, but there was no one behind him that he could see.

The hands begged to differ.

Everything about this was weird, Harry couldn’t deny it. The hands migrated up to his neck and then began raking through his hair. It was like they _knew_ how much that feeling aroused him. He couldn’t help it.

As the pleasure washed over him his eyes closed and he gave himself over to it.

Hours later, with his alarm blaring, Harry woke up in his bed completely naked. It wasn’t so odd for him to have slept like that, except for the fact that he didn’t remember taking any of his clothes off. Or brushing his teeth, or getting into bed.

The last thing he remembered were the phantom hands on his shoulders as they dug into his hair.

He felt his dick twitch and sure enough, when he looked down, he was hard, yes, but there was also a patch of dried come on his thigh.

Groaning, he pawed at his nightstand for his phone to turn the alarm off.

Oddly, it read 6:30. He didn’t usually get up until 7. He had to have accidentally taken an Ambien or something the night before.

Oh, well. He was awake, so he might as well hop in the shower.

Under the hot spray he thought he might have heard the door creak, but he was probably just hearing things because he was so on edge after the night before. He stood still for a moment but was loath to turn the shower off because it was the perfect temperature.

Silence.

Or, it was silent, until the curtain moved.

Harry jumped again the same way he did the night before. At least that he remembered.

The hands were back.

Fingers circled his wrists and brought his arms down until they were laying at his sides. They went for his chest next, rubbing, massaging, the same way they had done the night before only this time on his chest.

They grazed his nipples and Harry inhaled sharply. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

There was no answer.

The hands continued to caress him, and Harry really thought he was losing his mind talking to his empty shower.

But then the water droplets started to land. There was definitely something—or someone—there that had mass. The hands were also warm, body temperature warm, the way a person’s would be.

Before Harry could get his bearings the hands pushed his shoulders to turn him around. There was a soft click of his body wash bottle and the next sensation he felt was the hands covered in lather massaging his back and shoulders the way they had the night before.

Still unsure, Harry let it happen, relieved to have someone to help him if he was being honest. So far, that was all the hands had done.

Until they massaged far enough down to reach his ass.

The hands fanned out as the thumbs separated his ass cheeks, and Harry jumped again.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he said, attempting to turn around. The hands didn’t let him, pinning him in place, forcing him up against the shower wall.

His heart rate picked up and the nerves began to settle in again. As calm as this force had been so far, Harry was hyper aware that he didn’t know what was causing it.

He swallowed heavily. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

The hands relaxed their grip and went back to their more soothing massage, immediately resuming their position splayed across the cheeks of his ass.

Once again the thumbs pried his cheeks apart, but this time one of them reached over to brush across his hole.

Harry could feel himself start at the sensation. Harry was bi, sure, had even been with a few guys before, but he had never bottomed. He was always too worried about what it would feel like, and he enjoyed topping so it hadn’t ever come up.

This was not how he pictured his first experience.

The tip of the thumb began to press into his hole and he immediately clenched, not letting it in any farther.

One hand stayed on his ass and the other came up to grip around the back of his neck. It should have been threatening, but instead it was more… scolding. Harry wasn’t sure how to describe it, but despite his nervousness, he didn’t feel like he was in danger.

“Look,” he breathed heavily against the cool, wet tile his face was pressed into. “I’ve just never done this before, and I don’t even know what this is. I’m standing alone in my shower talking to myself. What do you want from me?”

The hand on his ass lifted before what felt like the pointer finger went straight for his hole again. Pressing.

It was tight, and dry, and a little rough. “Ah!” Harry cried out in discomfort. “At least use some lube.”

The hands stopped. Harry didn’t have lube in the shower, so he hoped that would deter them.

It didn’t.

He heard a bottle being opened, and he smelled the mango waft of his conditioner. Fuck.

The next thing he knew the finger was back, much more gentle this time.

Harry hadn’t gotten hard at all so far, except for a little stiffening in the very beginning when they were just massaging him, but he couldn’t help it now. Every time the finger teased the nerves around his hole, he felt a little bit more arousal.

It just kept building. Soon, Harry’s own hands were up on the tile wall, splayed as he tried desperately to look for purchase. He needed to push out the pleasure, give it somewhere to go, or else it was going to overwhelm him.

The hands added a second finger, stretching him, making him ache for a few moments as he got used to it. Then, they added a third, stretching him to his limits.

He could hear his own whimpers echoing off the ceramic of the tile and bouncing around the small space. When he picked this apartment for it’s gorgeous master bathroom with a modern standing shower, this hadn’t been what he anticipated. Nothing about this was normal.

As he moved, his now completely hard cock hit the cool tile, making him hiss and retract back pushing the fingers in deeper.

Finally one hand came up to grip his shoulder, aiding him, gaining leverage so they could push the three fingers in his ass up forcefully as far as they would go.

They found what they were looking for. White hot heat seared through Harry as he splattered his come all over the wall in front of him. His blood pounded in his ears, and he gasped for air as he tried to move out of the way of the spray to avoid being waterboarded.

The hands reached for his cock and started stroking it, making Harry convulse, trying to protect himself from the sensation. He was way too sensitive, and confused, and his body felt like it had been taken apart and put back together the wrong way.

He heard the shower curtain move and instinctively he knew the hands were gone.

Minutes went by as he sat there, before he realized he still needed to get ready for his shift at the bookstore.

He was probably late, but there was nothing left in him to allow for him to rush. The hands had wrung him out.

After he quickly finished getting ready, he bolted to catch the elevator at the end of the hall because he could hear it coming. He managed to hit the button just in time and he was only huffing a little bit when the doors opened.

The only other person in there was the cute guy from 15C. Harry saw him opening up his mailbox one time but boxes only had their units on the front so he didn’t catch his name. He was shorter than Harry, with soft, caramel hair that was usually artfully messy and a scruffy beard but today it still looked a bit damp.

His damp hair reminded Harry of his own shower and the shame washed over him making him drop his friendly greeting short and lean against the side wall so he could wallow.

Why was this happening to him? He needed that ghost whisperer. Or an exorcism.

The elevator doors opened and Harry started his trek to the bus stop. He couldn’t deny that physically he felt more relaxed, despite the twinge of brand new muscles that he had never used before, but mentally he was mixed up and confused.

That night when Harry got back to his apartment, he had a general feeling of unease. After everything that happened, he was wary of his own space. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there, or even that the attention from the hands was… unwelcome. They were an unknown, and there were times they were helpful, incredible even, but other times there was an edge to what they did that made him nervous.

Either way he had a relationship with a pair of disembodied hands.

Everything was quiet as he made dinner and once again sat down in front of his TV to watch Netflix, but he felt like he was constantly looking over his shoulder as he waited for the hands to make their move.

Nothing came.

By the time he was getting ready for bed, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

Harry woke up with a start. Too many things were happening at once. He blinked awake, confused, looking for the sound that woke him, but everything was pitch black and he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t move because he was being held by his neck again by the hands, face down being pushed into his bed, the same way they held him against the wall in the shower. His cock was hard, rubbing against his pile of bedding.

The hands were already two fingers deep.

His brain was fuzzy and he couldn’t quite grasp at a tangible thought. The fingers had stopped for a moment, but picked up their pace back up as soon as Harry settled after thrashing around in his discombobulated state.

“Oh, fuck,” he cried out as they hit the spot deep within him. “Oh my God, oh my _God_ ,” he panted as he tried to battle the arousal long enough to get a grip on the situation.

As he gained more consciousness, he realized this time it wasn’t just hands. He could feel the rest of a body, the way it would feel if they were on top of him like that.

“What are you _doing_ to me?” he begged the hands— _body_ —to give him some answers.

Instead of a response, he got another finger. He was already up to three, the way he had been in the shower.

Briefly, he had to wonder if the shower that morning had all just been preparing him for this. It also occurred to him that these hands might be the source of his increased wet dreams, and maybe they weren’t wet dreams at all.

His erection had flagged when he woke up, but he could only take so much friction against the cotton of his sheets before he started to harden again.

One last time, he tried to fight the grip of the hand holding him down by lifting his body up, but the force was too much for him. He gargled and coughed, choking against his sheets as he felt the spit drip out of his mouth, making the fabric messy beneath him. He could breathe, but barely.

His body couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay or if he needed to run for his life, but the spike of adrenaline had only served to amp up his arousal.

The fingers retreated, leaving him empty, but it wasn’t long before there was a cool drip of lube against his hole.

He knew what the hands wanted.

“Holy _shit_ ,” he whined as he felt the tip of the cock against his ass.

The cock wasted no time before it pressed in as far as it could. The hands had prepared him well.

All Harry could feel was fullness. He had never felt anything like it before, not even the fingers had really prepared him for this.

He had a moment, maybe two, before the cock started moving inside him. The strokes were long and sure with enough force behind them to knock the breath out of Harry every time it bottomed out.

The cock pounded into him, hitting his prostate over and over and over again. Using him. Not looking after his pleasure at all. Harry was just a fuck toy for this entity.

Between the constant, machine like precision, and the friction against his cock, Harry was powerless to stop the freight train of his orgasm. It hit him with enough force that the contraction of his hips as he thrust them further into his mattress finally managed to jostle the hand off the back of his neck.

He felt the dip of the mattress as the invisible hands dented the mattress on either side of his head. The body pinned him on his stomach completely and the cock increased the pace of it’s thrusting going, going, going. Hitting Harry against his prostate over and over again making him cringe.

The dampness of the mattress grew as tears leaked out of his eyes.

His cock began to harden again.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the cock planted itself deep and whatever it was, _whoever_ it was finally came.

Harry was somewhere outside of himself, unable to understand the sheer physical toll his invisible, disembodied hands had taken on him.

He felt something like… lips. They pressed against his shoulder before the hands turned him over to lie on his back and then began pressing all over his chest.

All Harry could see in the dark was the outline of his cock, now fully hard again, where the inky black shape bulged against his abdomen. He felt something like embarrassment at being hard again so soon after what the hands had put him through.

The lips pressed against his cock and it was all the warning he got before he was engulfed in heat.

Despite how sensitive he was, it took very little time for him to come again.

A few more kisses long the tops of his thighs, and then the lips, legs, cock, hands were gone.

And truly gone, not just lying in wait nearby. Harry didn’t know how he knew, he just did. He exhaled deeply as he sprawled out on his bed unsure of what to do or where to go from there.

A week later, Harry felt ridiculous for the funk he had slipped into. His hands hadn’t returned. He should be overjoyed that the oppressive spirit was gone, but all he felt was a sense of dread.

He was grappling with their existence. It felt like there was a body there with him, but was there? Was it a ghost? He wasn’t sure. The hands showed him pleasure like he had never known, but it wasn’t _normal_ to want someone to do that to him.

Even so, Harry couldn’t help the disappointment he felt at going back to regular vanilla sex after everything he experienced, but was that all there was?

He stared out his window, and he sniffed, trying to mask the tear he felt beginning to fall. Crying about it only served to compound his embarrassment, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

He had been fighting it all week after what happened, maybe if he let it out, he would get it out of his system.

A minute went by as tears streamed down his face and he wiped them away with the sleeve of his hoodie. A few seconds later, Harry felt a familiar pressure on his neck and the fingers started raking through his hair, comforting him.

Harry gasped wetly as he lifted his head, unable to control the way his chest was still heaving.

“There, there,” a voice whispered. Harry choked on his own breath and whipped his head around to look for the source of the voice, jostling the hands.

“Don’t cry, love.”


End file.
